Greenhouses and a Cup of Tea
by SqueakGirl
Summary: Butters has recently bought a new home. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, and while he's in a renovating mode, he meets up with an old friend who he hasn't seen in more than twenty years.


Hello, here I have a one-shot I wrote for a friend of mine as an early Christmas gift. She requested that I write something with Butters and Bradley, the boy from the pray the gay away camp, and how they would react meeting up several years later. I'm writing out of my comfort zone. I think this is like the first fan fic I've written where Stan or Kyle aren't the main focus. Although, like the crazed shipper that I am, there are hints of Style in there. They totally ninja-ed their way in, seriously.

**Summary: **Butters has recently bought a new home. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, and while he's in a renovating mode, he meets up with an old friend he hasn't seen in more than twenty years.

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer:** I do not own South Park. This story is just for fun and for writing practice.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Greenhouses and a Cup of Tea<strong>

Butters purchased his first home at the age of twenty-eight. It was a small little hovel just on the outskirts of South Park. With one bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and pint-sized living room, the home had been rather cheap. Rotting door frames, missing shutters, and a leaking roof also helped drop the price. Despite his parents' protests and his friends' exasperation at the little house's condition, Butters bought the tiny shack anyway.

The first couple of weeks in his new home, Butters set about renovating the eyesore. Adventuring several times to the hardware store for supplies, Butters slowly stocked up his tool kit. First, he repaired the two door frames in the home. The entrance proved a quite simple fix. He sanded and carved out tiny, intricate little deigns into the frame, finally etching his name above the threshold. Next, he tackled the back door, only to find that no matter how many times he tried to align the new wooden frame, it seemed to fall into place crooked. After several attempts at readjustments, he gave up and nailed in the wooden beams as is; hoping the hump in the wood wouldn't cause anyone to trip. Strangely, Butters thought of Kenny.

After the doors were finished, Butters clambered up to the roof. Not too happy about the height, even for his small house, Butters had asked Eric to help hold the ladder he'd borrowed from Stan. Cartman complained, saying he had better things to do, like pick up hot chicks. Butters had discreetly rolled his eyes at Eric, not having the heart to point out that he might try acting a little kinder to women if he ever hoped of having a chance with them. Instead, Butters nodded sympathetically to Cartman's plight, but still begged Eric to remain below, near the ladder for safety's sake. So, despite the annoyed jibes drifting up from below, Butters re-shingled the whole roof in a nice rosy-hued color. Soon after, Butters repainted the whole house a creamy yellow color and added little white shutters on each window.

Finally several months later with fall slowly approaching and his outdoor home improvement projects finished, Butters went about sweeping and cleaning the whole house from top to bottom. He pulled up carpet, refinished the hardwood floors, and polished the craggily stones that made up the miniscule fireplace. Next, he waxed the kitchen floor and bought some new furniture from Stan and Kyle who had moved into a new home and needed to get rid of a few old things. With a quaint little table complete with non-matching chairs, Butters finished up the kitchen with a vase of colored glass resting on the windowsill above the sink. When the sun set in the evening, the light from the fading sun streamed through the turquoise glass to shift patterns upon the wall.

Butters enjoyed sitting at the table where the bluish-green light could fall upon him, engulfing his whole body. In his own mind, he believed the glass and its casted light held some kind of magic. He never said this to any of his friends, lest they find him odd and juvenile for a man about to reach his thirties.

In the end, when Butters had finally finished all his tasks and the tiny shack of a home glowed with its fresh paint and manicured lawn, the young man invited his closest friends to visit.

Setting out a plate of round little cookies with confectioner sugar dusted on top, Butters rearranged the tabletop's bowls and plates. He placed coasters around the edges of the round table, added another plate of cookies, and set out a row of glasses and a jar of lemonade. Having bought a cluster of brightly colored balloons, he tied a few around the room, some to doorknobs others to the backs of chairs.

At six o'clock on the dot, the doorbell rang. Butters skipped to the entrance in less than three bounds. He paused, checking his jacket and checkered bowtie. Satisfied with his appearance, he pulled open the door.

Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski greeted him with twin smiles. Stan stepped forward to hug Butters, while Kyle shuffled inside and offered Butters a bottle of champagne with a ribbon wrapped around the neck.

"Dude, your house doesn't look like a pit anymore," Kyle commented, as Butters took the bottle. Stan tapped Butters on the shoulder and pointed to the champagne.

"That's our house warming gift," Stan explained unnecessarily.

"Oh, thank you, fellas. That's awfully nice of you." Butters took the gift and shuffled to the kitchen. Kyle followed him.

"Did you really do this all yourself?" Kyle asked, peeking through the newly installed cupboards. Butters placed the champagne in the refrigerator.

"Yep, Kyle. It was loads of fun. Though I sure got a lot of bandages for the trouble." He held up his thumbs, both were wrapped in white tape. Kyle gave a short laugh.

"It seems a minor sacrifice," Kyle noted, admiring the painted back door. Butters had added a few swirling vines around the edges.

Stan entered the kitchen.

"Dude, Butters, did you do the hardwood floors all on your own?"

Butters nodded, a little annoyed. He'd told his friends several times about his home improvement projects and what they all entailed.

"Hardwood is expensive, dude," Stan continued.

"Oh, well it was under the carpet. So, all I had to do was clean it up and restore a few spots. I added some coats of wax too," Butters explained happily. He bent over the oven and pulled out a small pan of cheesy pastry puffs, hors d'oeuvres he had made for the evening. Setting out another plate, Butters scooped up the little puffs and arranged them on the dish. He watched Stan and Kyle examine the rest of the kitchen. Moving to the opposite corner of the stove, Stan admired the new molding Butters had affixed to the wall. Stan being the tallest of the three could just barely trace his fingers over the flowered design.

Kyle had moved to the kitchen window over the sink and was peering through the glass of the turquoise vase. Moving his head to the side, he twitched back the curtains to check out the backyard. Even in the dying light of the day, a churned up dirt yard presented itself before Kyle's gaze.

"Are you going to fix up the backyard?" the redhead asked, dropping the curtain and moving to the fridge. He pulled out the champagne bottle and offered to pour Butters a glass.

"Oh, I plan on putting down some sod, I guess. Though I'd really like to plant a little garden back there. It'd be nice to have some veggies of my own. Maybe I'll even add an apple tree!" Butters said, cheerfully offering his plate of pastry puffs. Kyle picked one up on the tips of his thin fingers and sniffed it. Stan had already stuffed three into his mouth.

"You don't seem to have made much, Butters," Kyle noted. "Who else is coming? Your parents?"

Butters shuffled his feet back and forth. "Uh…n-no. I d-didn't invite them. They probably would have been too busy. But Kenny might show up later. And Eric!"

Kyle rolled his eyes at the name as he nibbled on his pastry. Stan was eating another handful of the hors d'oeuvres.

"You know I don't think we'll need Fatass, if Stan keeps hogging all the food," Kyle quipped. Stan frowned.

"Dude, I'm starving," Stan whined.

"What happened to the lunch I made you for work?"

Stan tried to hide his cringe. "I…uh…ate that. But that was hours ago, dude."

Butters clapped his hands together. "Oh, don't worry, Stan, I got this lovely vegetable soup cookin'. I'm sure you'll like it lots."

It did smell good in the kitchen. Kyle eyed the large iron pot Butters now stirred, while Stan gazed at it longingly, his hand darting out to sneak some of the little white cookies out from under Kyle's nose.

Kyle glanced back out the window.

"Are you serious about planting a garden, Butters?" Kyle asked. "You do realize South Park's covered in snow nearly two thirds out of the whole year. We barely get a fall or spring."

"Oh, well, I plan on putting in a greenhouse. With heat and lights and everything," Butters said, ladling out a bowl full of soup and handing it to Stan.

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Are your parents going to lend you the money?"

Butters dropped the ladle back into the pot. He frowned at Kyle, confused.

"Why would I ask my parents?"

Kyle shrugged. "I thought they helped you pay for most of these renovations."

Butters puffed out his thin chest. "N-nope, Kyle. I did it all by myself.

Kyle nodded as if distracted. He moved towards the stove and ladled out his own bowl of soup. Butters opened his mouth to argue further with the redhead, but at that moment the doorbell rang.

Butters excused himself and scurried out of the kitchen and across the living room. When he reached the door he found Kenny outside, admiring the carved name above the door. The lanky blond pointed above him.

"That's pretty neat," he commented as Butters slid to the side to let his friend pass. Kenny pulled off his long, black coat and hung it upon a peg near the door. Butters gave Kenny a grin.

"Gee, that's a nice coat."

Kenny shrugged. "Did you know it only cost me twenty-five bucks at Wal-Mart? Some assholes would pay fifty at some fancier places in the mall."

Butters nodded, smiling. Kenny still was the thriftiest person he knew. Years living on the wrong side of the tracks and eating Poptarts for dinner every night as a child had ingrained in Kenny a sense of frugalness so complete, that Butters had once caught Kenny saving their fast food ketchup and mustard packets just so he didn't have to buy a new bottle of either condiment.

What was funny and much to the town's immense surprise was that Kenny McCormick had actually made something of himself and could now afford regular bottles of ketchup. Buckling down by the end of his high school career, Kenny had scraped his way through college, received his bachelor's, then his master's, and finally a PhD. Now, he was South Park's leading cardiac surgeon. No one in South Park had ever expected that one day they'd be referring to poor Kenny as Doctor McCormick.

Still in his scrubs, Kenny excused himself to the bathroom to wash up. When Butters returned to the kitchen he found Stan and Kyle having a whispered argument about their own planned home renovations that apparently Kyle felt were totally justifiable. Stan, on the other hand, avoided Kyle's eye as he made lame excuses about why he couldn't climb up to the roof and fix the chimney.

"Don't you want to fix up the house?" Kyle pressed, poking Stan in the elbow. "Look at all Butters has accomplished with his. Butters, Stan, of all people! I think we should paint the guest room too."

Stan slurped his soup.

"I like the way the guest room looks now," Stan mumbled.

"I think it would look better with the walls painted red."

"Red?"

"Yes, red, Stan. Now, pay attention, red would be a nice warm color. Very inviting."

"Or you'll feel like you're sleeping in Hell," Kenny commented as he entered the kitchen.

Butters chuckled as he offered Kenny food. Kyle glared at his lanky friend.

"It will not."

Kenny smiled at Stan. "What do you think, dude?"

Kyle whipped around to stare at Stan, who suddenly found the chopped carrots swimming around in the bottom of his bowl very fascinating. Kenny smirked.

Butters took a seat next to Kyle.

"Well, you can ask me what I think, Kyle," Butters offered. "I spent all that time fixin' up the place. I know a thing or two about painting a room."

"That's nice, Butters," Kyle said dismissively, still glaring at Stan. Butters rubbed his fists together.

"I mean it, Kyle," Butters insisted. "I think red's a bit too bold. Now, you could always try a softer hue of it. Or maybe yellow? Yellow's always lovely for guest rooms. All sunny. You could paint sunflowers all over the place. I plan on doin' that to the outside of the garage once spring comes."

Kyle patted Butters hand. "Er…thanks for the advice, Butters, but I think Stan and I are looking for something more adult than sunflowers."

Butters clamped his mouth shut and nodded. He turned his face away from Kyle, and stood up to attend the stove. He made a great show of fishing out more pastry puffs from the oven, closing the door with a heavy slam. Stan and Kyle were back to bickering, and Kenny was stuffing his face with what Kyle had leftover in his soup bowl. Butters moved back to the table and set down the pastries. He waited, standing there before his friends. He tried several times to engage Kenny in conversation, but once the young man had finished Kyle's soup; he dropped his head to the table and soon fell fast asleep. Kyle was telling Stan what color they should paint the master bathroom, and Stan was once more scarfing down on the cheesy pastries with a speed to rival Cartman.

Perched on the edge of his seat, Butters made a small noise in the back of his throat. No one looked at him. Sighing, Butters decided to start washing some dishes.

Despite his friend's lack of enthusiasm or care for his home projects, Butters continued to polish his new home until satisfied. Deciding on starting construction of his greenhouse as soon as possible, Butters headed to the local hardware store to ask for advice about erecting one. Finding his way through the maze of lawn mowers, lamps, and power tools, Butters found himself in the garden department. With winter approaching, many of the pots, hoses, rakes, and other yard supplies had been replaced with early Christmas decorations. Huge trees strung with multi-colored lights glistened above Butters' head as he perused the aisles. He stopped to watch a set of motorized trains, complete with whistle and steam, travel circles in fake snow at the foot of one the largest pines.

A few feet down, Butters found a set of snow globes. He took a small one with a tiny snowman inside, and shook it. The flakes inside swirled. Butters decided he'd buy the tiny globe, and placed it in his hand basket. Reaching the end of the aisle, Butters found a small counter with a blond man about his own age, bent over a newspaper filled with the hardware store's coupons. The other man was lightly biting his thumb, his other hand curled within his bushy blond hair. He wore a blue vest, indicating he worked for the store. Butters approached him.

"Excuse me, sir, but does anyone working here know how to build a proper greenhouse?"

The man looked up, startled that he'd been caught slacking. His eyes had grown wide as he bit down harder on his thumbnail. Butters had a sudden horrible fear the man was going to draw blood; he gnawed on his nail so forcefully.

For a moment the two stared one another down, with the strange employee breathing heavily out of his nose. Then slowly a small smile crept onto the man's face. He dropped his hand for the first time.

Butters smiled back, politely, not sure he knew the man. He seemed familiar somehow, but Butters had a hard time placing the face. It was the man's habit of biting his thumb that seemed to spark some kind of memory.

"Butters?" asked the man.

Taken aback Butters formed a hesitant grin.

"Um…hi?"

The man pointed to himself. "Don't you remember me, Butters? It's Bradley. From Camp New Grace?"

Butters narrowed his brow for a moment, examining the other, and then suddenly the memory dawned on him. He recalled being confused as a child, his father's fear, and the camp with so many sad boys.

And Bradley who had been his Accountabili-Buddy.

Butters' face split into a wide smile. He rushed forward and threw his arms around the other man. Bradley laughed in his ear and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I haven't seen you in forever!" Butters whined, stepping back. "I missed getting your letters every summer! And what are you doing here in South Park?"

Bradley shrugged, sticking his thumbnail once more back in his mouth. He talked around it.

"S-sorry about that, B-Butters, but see I kind of got busy back home and I forgot about writing. I felt bad about it really, but…I guess after so much time passed I didn't think I could write to you again."

Butters frowned. "Ah heck, Bradley, why not?"

Blushing Bradley tugged at his hair.

"I got a boyfriend. And he kind of gets nervous over the silliest things...and well he's the one I focused on writing to more. Sorry."

Butters waved his hand dismissively.

"Ah, I'm happy for you Bradley. Is he a nice fella?" Butters asked conversationally, still all smiles.

Bradley nodded.

"He's quite nice. I moved to South Park to live with him. I just got this job a few weeks ago," he explained. "I don't think the boss likes me though. He doesn't think I'm competent enough to work by myself."

Butters frowned at this. "What? Why?"

"I'm sort of nervous about some things still. And I have a bad habit of always asking for permission to do some of the easiest things…like go to the bathroom. I always feel odd about leaving my post without asking for permission. Like back in school you always had to ask for permission…I still can't shake that."

Nodding, Butters said, "Well, I guess that's not so bad. Don't see why your boss would get upset."

"More annoyed really," Bradley corrected. "That and he don't like my boyfriend."

"Oh," Butters tilted his head curiously. "Is he – er – rude to your boss?"

Bradley shook his head frantically, still biting his nail.

"No, no. He's quite fine. Really polite. Just, he's a bit nervous like myself…and well once he surprised me here during my first week of work. He wanted to bring me a nice lunch, and well something spooked him, and he broke several lamps in the Light Department. I was moved to the gardening section the next day…pretty sure it's 'cause of my boyfriend."

Butters put on a sympathetic frown.

"You don't like working in the garden section?"

Bradley shook his head. "No, I actually like it loads better. It always smells nicer back here…well by the flowers and trees anyway. Right now it smells like pine, which I like."

"Well, then, Bradley, if you work here, can I ask you about greenhouses?" Butters began. "Do you know how to best go about building one?"

Bradley shook his head, but beckoned Butters to follow him.

"No, but I can find someone who does." The two headed down a long aisle lined with strings of Christmas lights hung up in display.

After a couple minutes of walking, Bradley asked, "Why are you building a greenhouse?"

Butters explained his new home and all the renovation projects he'd tackled. Now, with the interior and exterior of the house complete, Butters planned on fixing up the backyard. Bradley smiled at this.

"I like gardens," he nibbled on the end of his thumb, "Like the Garden of Eden."

Butters gave a hesitant nod. Bradley had been rather keen on spouting Bible verses when they were younger. For a short time period, Bradley had often signed his letters to Butters with a quote from the Bible. It was a few months before Bradley stopped corresponding, that he stopped with the Bible verses and simply signed his name. When Butters had asked why in his last letter, Bradley had replied that he could no longer pretend to be someone his parents desired, but rather someone he Bradley wanted to be. Butters, at the time, wasn't sure what to make of that statement. Back then, he had been barely fifteen and still very much under the strict rule of his parents. To fathom a time when he could shed his mother and father from his life had not occurred to Butters yet; not until the day he decided to move out and buy his own home.

"So, what do you do for a living, Butters?" asked Bradley as he held open a door for Butters to slip through. They reached the enclosed outdoor space that during the summer and spring held all the flowers and vegetable plants.

"I'm a kindergarten teacher at South Park Elementary."

"Oh wow, you're a teacher?"

Butters beamed. "Yep."

Bradley smiled down at his hands. He stared at his thumb.

"I bet you're a really nice teacher. You probably don't yell or make the kids sit in time out, right?"

Butters laughed. "Well, they have to learn right from wrong somehow, Bradley. But no, I have a good class this year. Hardly a troublemaker in the whole class. I have a few boys who thought it would be funny to let the class frog loose in the halls, but we caught the little guy before he got too far."

"I bet everyone loves you," Bradley said wistfully. For a moment he continued to gaze at his thumb, moved it to his mouth, but thought better on it and stuffed his fists into his pockets. Leading Butters further into the store's nearly empty greenhouse, Bradley found an elderly woman with dark eyes and curly hair. She smiled at the two young men and gladly answered all their questions. By the time Butters left the store, he had everything ordered to begin building his own greenhouse. Bradley asked if he might visit Butters later with his boyfriend to see Butters' new home. Butters said he couldn't wait.

Several days later, Butters sat on the small patio in his backyard. Snow drifted lazily to the ground and a gust of wind swept through his short blond hair. Although winter had finally made an appearance, Butters had had the supplies for his new greenhouse brought to his home. Glass panes, steel pipes, tools, and other complicated equipment sat in opened brown boxes scattered around the yard. Taking stock of his purchase, Butters reviewed a thick booklet explaining in complicated detail how to build a greenhouse of one's own.

Footsteps sounded from around the corner and Butters hopped up hoping to see Bradley enter the backyard. Instead Butters frowned when he saw Kyle come sauntering down the little stone path.

"Hey, Butters," Kyle said, waving. He held out his hand offering a small green and red envelop. "Stan and I are throwing a Christmas party. I wanted to deliver your invitation to you!"

Beaming, Butters took the little note.

"Oh boy, Kyle, I love Christmas parties…but why do you want to throw a Christmas party?" Butters asked.

Kyle sighed. "Because, Butters, think of what Cartman would do if I tried to throw some kind of Chanukah party. Stan and I enjoy our house _standing_ and in _one piece_."

Butters giggled; despite the topic of Cartman, Kyle appeared in a better mood than from the last time Butters had talked to him. Moving further into the backyard, Kyle pointed at the boxes.

"What's all this?"

"Oh, I'm buildin' myself a greenhouse!"

"In the middle of winter?"

"Well, I want to be ready to plant the flowers in spring don't I?" Butters asked, tilting his head to the side and smiling.

Kyle suppressed an eye roll, and said, "So, where are the builders?"

"What?"

"Didn't you hire someone to put this together for you?"

Butters shook his head.

"I can do it myself."

Kyle folded his arms and peered into one of the larger boxes which contained a series of metal frames that looked more like a jumble of jigsaw pieces.

"I don't know, Butters, it looks complicated. You want me and Stan to help you or something?"

"No thanks, Kyle. I can do it myself."

Kyle gave a short laugh. "Okay, Butters." He clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You just call us when you need us. Okay? See you later."

And with that he was gone. Butters stared at the ground where Kyle's feet had been moments before, the footprints broken and dirty in the snow. Butters knew his friend meant well. They all meant well (excluding Eric). It was however a bit irksome to still be treated like a child. Kyle wasn't the only one dropping hints that Butters would need someone to rescue him from the difficult task of managing his own home. A few weeks ago Stan had lent him his metal ladder again and had watched Butters climb it to the top to clip some lengthy branches from the oak tree located on the right side of the house. Having positioned Stan's ladder under the cumbersome branches cluttering the drain pipe, Butters had ascended the rungs with Stan holding the whole thing steady below. Reaching the halfway point, Butters had lost his footing for a split second and wobbled unsteadily. Stan had grown pale and shouted for Butters to return to the ground that instant. Assuring his friend that he was fine, Butters continued to the top. When his task was complete, Butters came back down.

Stan was less vocal than Kyle when it came to his concern. He suddenly remembered that he had an errand to run, and since Kyle would not like him leaving their belongings in someone else's yard, apologized to Butters that he needed to take the ladder home. Butters had complained that a tree in the backyard needed pruning too, and asked if Stan might part with the ladder for a few more hours. Butters had promised to return it, but Stan had refused, slipping the ladder back into his blue pickup and backing out of Butters' drive.

The next day Butters had bought a new ladder for himself.

A few minutes drifted by as Butters turned a few more pages in the instruction manual. He had a small pile of multi-colored post-its to stick onto important pages. He highlighted a few warning paragraphs too. It was as he tore off a piece of neon-green post-it to mark page forty-six that Butters heard footsteps approach again. Crunching his way through the thin layer of snow, Bradley appeared around the corner, and Butters sighed with relief, glad for once that it wasn't one of his other friends.

"H-hey, Butters," Bradley waved. Butters stood up to greet him, pulling him into a short hug. Just as Butters pulled back to speak, another set of footsteps sounded.

Peering around Bradley's shoulder Butters saw Tweek Tweak emerge from around the house. He was just as Butters remembered him from school, constantly twitching with his eyes darting in every direction. He even held a large Styrofoam cup in his gloved hands.

"GAH! Er – Hi, Butters," Tweek said, smiling sheepishly.

"Ah, hiya, Tweek, I haven't seen you in awhile."

Tweek shook as he sipped his coffee. "Oh, Jesus, I didn't make you worry did I? I hate making people worry! GAH!"

Bradley shuffled over to the twitching young man and placed a comforting arm around him.

"I'm sure he didn't worry too much, Tweek," Bradley said, giving the other's shoulders a squeeze. Bradley looked up at Butters and smiled. For a moment Butters wondered why Tweek would be making an appearance at his home. They had never talked much as kids, in fact the last time Butters saw Tweek was several years ago at his parents' coffee shop. Butters didn't like coffee, but had entered the shop to purchase a gift card for Kenny.

"Wait a sec…," Butters half mumbled. "Bradley…you and Tweek?"

Bradley started biting his thumb. He smiled around it as he nodded. Tweek flinched as he smiled up at Bradley.

"We met in a therapy group about breaking bad habits," Bradley explained, still chewing on his nails. "We hit it off so well. He keeps me calm."

Tweek nodded. "GAH! I don't feel so much pressure…with him."

Butters smiled. "Ah, that's real nice"

Tweek was draining the last dregs of his coffee. He shook the cup out onto the snow wistfully sighing. Bradley kissed his forehead, taking his thumb out of his mouth for the first time since he stepped into Butters backyard.

"Er…," Tweek pulled at his jacket. "Y-you d-don't happen to have any coffee, Butters."

Shaking his head Butters said, "Sorry, Tweek. But I have some tea. If you'd like that."

Tweek twitched, cocking his head to the side as if thinking it over.

"Tea has caffeine in it too," Bradley offered. He wasn't informing Tweek of this, rather saying it like an epiphany had come to him. Tweek nodded.

"I'll have tea then," Tweek said, grinning crookedly at Butters.

Showing his friends inside, Butters and his friends entered the kitchen. Bradley and Tweek took two seats closest to each other. Bradley sat with one hand in Tweek's while the other hand hovered around his mouth as he tried to control his nail biting. Tweek stared about the room; jumping at noises it appeared only he could hear.

"What kind of tea would you like, fellas?" Butters asked, pulling down little boxes with pictures of trees, shrines, and lotus flowers.

"Does any of the tea come straight black…like coffee?" Tweek asked examining a tiny shelf of ornament tea cups above his head.

"Uh…no, I don't think so, but I got Earl Grey! I like that one a lot. It's my favorite!"

Tweek thought about it for a moment and nodded, offering his Styrofoam cup to Butters. Butters gave a quick smile and said he'd just pull out a teacup. After boiling the water, he set the little bags into three cups and placed them on the table. Bradley sniffed at his while Tweek eyed his steaming cup with apprehension.

"Oh Jesus, I've never had tea before. GAH! What if I don't like it? And you went to all that trouble to make it," Tweek moaned, yanking at his hair. Bradley patted his hand.

"Butters will understand if you don't like it. It's okay."

"Yeah, Tweak, it's cool. I can always make you something else. It's no trouble, really."

Tweek tugged the little cup towards him and brought his face close to the cup's edge. He blew on the steam rising from the brownish liquid and waited. Another swift blow and he took a small sip. Scrunching up his face and closing his eyes he took another sip. And then another. Slowly his face smoothed and a small grin spread over his lips.

Tugging at his jacket, Tweek said, "Ah…er, t-this is good, Butters. T-thank you."

"No problem!"

For a few moments the three friends sipped their tea in silence. Bradley kept one hand over Tweek's hand as they drank. Butters smiled at his old pen pal. So many years had faded away since they were eight years old and stuck together as Accountabili-Buddies at that awful camp. Back then Bradley had been just as much a bundle of nerves as Tweek was now. Butters recalled seeing his friend pour over Bible verses, jerking the pages back and forth to check different sections, tearing the page on accident and falling huddled into a corner moaning about how much an abomination he was to the world. At the time Butters had been too young, too naïve to see his friend's pain for what it really was. Somehow, though, when Butters denounced his confusions the camp had wrought upon him, the message had filtered its way to Bradley. In the end, Bradley had explained years later to Butters in one of his letters, it was okay to be confused. To not understand who or what you are was fine, it was when someone else forced you to feel confused or tried to steer you away from your own self-discovery because of fear and prejudice that that confusion needed to be let go. That confusion, Bradley had written, was doubt not curiosity. Doubt had made him climb up to the edge of that bridge at the age of eight, but it was Butters embrace of his own curiosity that brought him back down.

Butters sighed into his teacup. He wished he had been smarter and more aware as a child. Even now Butters felt like he never helped anyone, unless it was by accident – through his own stupidity.

Bradley set down his teacup with a clinking sound.

"So, are you really building a greenhouse all by yourself?"

Butters looked up.

"Oh, yes. I have to get it done by spring so I can plant flowers."

"Oh Jesus, flowers have bees in them and some flowers have thorns. GAH!" Tweek huddled over his teacup. Bradley patted his shoulder.

"Tweek, don't think of flowers like that," Bradley said trying to keep a bit of laughter out of his voice. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind Tweek's ear. "Remember Group? We have to think of the positive. Don't say roses have thorns…er…say that uh, thorns have roses? Doesn't that sound nicer?"

"Kind of like the glass if half full, right?" Butters piped up.

"My cup's half empty," Tweek said, looking at the dregs of his tea. He tugged at the little teabag string.

"I'll just add more hot water," Butters announced. He stood up and grabbed the tea kettle off the stove. Tweek pushed his teacup forward and watched Butters pour the steaming liquid over the teabag.

"It still makes tea?" Tweek asked, dunking the little bag up and down. Bradley chuckled.

"Yeah. It's got a few more uses out of it."

"They should do this with coffee," Tweek commented, blowing on his drink once again. Butters replaced the kettle and sat back down. Bradley started nibbling at his thumb, trying to grin around it.

"Back to your greenhouse, Butters, would you like some help with it?" Bradley asked eagerly.

Butters shook his head, but stopped. Maybe he should just ask for help? Butters thought of Kyle. Did no one think he was capable of anything on his own? Even someone like Bradley saw the task as too difficult for him.

"Butters…?" Bradley asked.

"Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

"I said, Tweek's told me all about your renovation work. He noticed you putting on new shingles and fixing the door. He said you worked all through summer and fall after you bought this place."

"Oh Jesus, when you were on the roof I couldn't watch. I couldn't do that, man. No way. Too high for me. GAH!"

Butters shrugged. "It wasn't so bad up there. I could see a lot of South Park even from up on top of my tiny house."

Bradley's eyes were roaming around the kitchen. He stared at the new wooden door frame, the molding, the fresh coat of paint on the walls, and, last, the turquoise vase which now cast a bluish tinge to his left shoulder and to Tweek's right one.

"That's pretty impressive that you did it all by yourself. That's what Tweek told me," Bradley said.

"Yeah, why didn't anyone help you?" Tweek said, his teeth grinding against the rim of the teacup as he drank.

"Oh they offered help sometimes…sort of," Butters said thinking of Kyle's green eyes rolling in exasperation, and Stan hoarding away his tall ladder in the back of his pickup.

"Offered's no good," Tweek mumbled into his cup. "Why didn't they just start helping if they wanted to so badly?"

Butters opened and closed his mouth several times trying to think of a response to that, but couldn't. Sure Stan and Kyle meant well, but that's all they seemed to do when it came to Butters_. Don't do that, Butters. That's stupid, Butters. I don't think that's a good idea, Butters. Listen to us, Butters. _

But at the end of the day, Butters climbed to the top of his own roof to fix it, he cut the trees limbs, he painted the walls, he fixed the floorboards, he did everything for his little house. Stan and Kyle went through the motions they'd always gone through as kids; complaining to Butters, telling him what to do, promising half-truths. Butters had been incompetent as a child true, and at a time Stan and Kyle's concern had seemed poignant. But Butters had changed…Stan and Kyle just hadn't noticed yet.

Doubt made them replay their old roles again and again….

"If you don't need any help that's cool," Bradley said, still smiling. He'd pulled his thumb away. "I just thought after all that hard work you've done, you'd like to take a rest. Let me and Tweek help you. We could all get the job done in half the time, and then start planning what kind of flowers you'll plant inside when spring rolls around. I can help you get a discount at the store if you'd like."

Tweek chewed at a piece of his hair. "J-just don't plant any Venus flytraps or anything…oh Jesus, they could start feeding off blood and grow into monsters!"

Bradley sighed, took Tweek's hand, and said, "Remember, dear, that was a musical we saw, not real life. Remember?"

Tweek paused. "Oh yeah…," he grinned sheepishly into his teacup. "I enjoyed the songs. They were catchy now that I remember."

Butters laughed.

"So, can we help with the greenhouse?" Bradley pressed, turning back to Butters. He seemed so eager, so excited at the prospect.

Butters face split into a warm smile.

"Oh that would be swell, fellas. Thank you."

As the snow finally began to melt around April, and May promised slightly warmer days, Butters sat in his new greenhouse which was a bit lopsided in places, but sturdy nonetheless. He watered a row of sprouts and buds just peeking out of the rich, thick soil. Hanging vines and a few tall trees swayed in a corner nearest the door. Setting the pink watering can on the table, Butters picked up the newspaper to scan the headlines. Stan and Kyle had been by earlier to admire Butters' new purchase of rose buds and lilies. Kyle had complained to Stan about their own lack of flowers at their home. Stan shrugged and complained that the pollen made his eyes water. Kyle had crossed his arms and declared that next weekend he was starting his own garden. Stan had pinched the bridge of his nose as Kyle began making a list with Butters about all the necessary equipment Kyle would need. Stan and Kyle left a half hour later with Kyle carrying a leftover bag of seeds Butters had given him. Meanwhile, Stan stumbled after lugging a heavy bag of fertilizer over his shoulder.

A small knock on the door announced Bradley's arrival. He was without Tweek today, who, Bradley told Butters, had volunteered to watch his parents' coffee shop.

"He's slowly trying to take on more responsibilities," Bradley explained. "A little at a time…so he doesn't, you know, feel too much pressure."

"That's good," Butters said, flattening out the paper and pouring a cup of tea for Bradley.

"Your garden looks amazing," Bradley said, sipping his tea. He reached out and touched the tip of a small green bud peeking out of the soil in the bottom of a large potted plant sitting next to the glass patio table.

"What's this one going to be?" he asked.

"Um…funny thing is I don't know yet. I sort of bought it in a rush with a few other potted plants and got their little info cards all mixed up. So, I'll see when it blooms, I guess?"

Bradley nibbled at his thumb. "That's sort of fun, not knowing yet. It'll be fun to guess as it starts to grow."

Butters shrugged. "It'll be fun being surprised when it's good and ready to show me what it is. I shall call the plant Francis. That's a nice name, don't you think?"

Bradley nodded, smiling at his tea. "Tweek thinks naming the plants might cause them to revolt against us when they come to life."

"Oh dear, really? Why's that?"

"'Cause what if the plant doesn't like the name you chose for it?" Bradley laughed. "That's what Tweek basically said. He also suggested you put some of those 'googly' eyes on them so that you always know where they stand…or something like that. "

Bradley made a noise halfway between a sigh and a fond chuckle.

Butters tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully, grinning.

"I suppose that could be a good enough reason...to wait and name the plants. I would be awfully sore if people didn't call me by a name I liked."

"So you like the name Butters then?"

"It's catchier than Leopold," Butters sighed, frowning at his cup.

"What about Leo?"

"That's not so bad…reminds me of a lion. But Leopold just makes me think of my parents. Butters makes me think of…well, just me. And I want to think about just me now."

Bradley looked over the rim of his cup as he asked, "And not think about your parents?"

Butters leaned his elbows up onto the glass surface of the patio table. Moving closer towards Bradley he half-whispered, "That's why I bought this house."

"And fixed it up?" Bradley added.

Butters nodded.

"I was curious to see if I could do it. If I could handle the paperwork and the renovating and well just being on my own…I was scared to do it for the longest time. I had enough money for a house ages ago, but I just never thought I could leave Mom and Dad. What if I needed them? They wouldn't be around to help me."

"Help you with what?" Bradley gnawed on his fingernail.

Butters sat back in his chair. He stared up through the open pane in the greenhouse roof. A bird flew overhead.

"That's just it. When I got to thinking about it, I couldn't think of why I would need them now. Now, that I am an adult with my own job. I was just scared. That's all."

Bradley pulled his thumb away from his mouth.

"And you're not scared now?"

"Well, lots of things still scare me. The neighbor's big dog, the mail lady who keeps hinting that she opens my mail, that weird static noise the TV makes when there's no picture –"

"Oh, I hate that too," quipped Bradley.

"And the guy on the oatmeal box sometimes stares at me weird," Butters continued rambling. "But I guess if I let those things make me feel afraid and small and like I can't do anything, then I wouldn't have my nice house or this great greenhouse."

"Or good friends," Bradley offered.

"That too…even if some of them are kind of assholes."

"I'm not one of these assholes, am I?" Bradley asked, chewing on his nail and winking at him.

Butters laughed.

"No, of course not," he paused and smiled, "you're my Accountabili-Buddy. And I like you a lot-lot"

Bradley chuckled at the old phrase.

"I like you a lot-lot too, Butters." He raised his teacup in a small toast before taking another sip.

"Want me to tell you the names for the rest of my plants?"

"Sure!"

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.<p>

Please fee free to comment and review. Constructive criticism is most welcomed. :D


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